


She was Fourteen

by Newagenewbarricade



Series: Blood Herald [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Pre Inquisition, actually during the blight, during origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newagenewbarricade/pseuds/Newagenewbarricade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mage ran from the circle and the Hero of Ferelden sure enough someone would catch up with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She was Fourteen

**Author's Note:**

> fire and burns tw  
> http://41.media.tumblr.com/6c22593029a9eceb8ecb1d97580c99b9/tumblr_mpl0pb48GK1qz9b3ko1_500.jpg (image that inspired the fic)

                She was fourteen. She had been on the run for months. The circle was overrun and the warden told her she was to repent at his camp under his command. She ran for her life from the man who would’ve made her his possession. She ran through the woods armed with only her staff and her wits. Pursuit, clearly someone was after her whether it was the damned warden or the Templars the girl was unsure. She just knew she had to run, she was fourteen. Metallic feet crashing through the woods on her trail, she had to keep running. If they caught her she’d be dead or worse.

She felt as if her lungs were full of hot coals as she dashed through the forest. She tripped on a gnarled root and fell into the soft earth. She clambered to her feet as she heard her pursuers gaining on her. An arrow shot her in the shoulder, she cried out in pain. She was fourteen and her life was once again to be ripped out of her control. How long had these Templars been following her? Since the hold? Since she left the warden? How much energy had the chantry spent to hunt down a fourteen year old girl?

“Come quietly and it’ll all be over soon.” A Templar said.

Analia stood up feeling blood trickle down her arm. She took a deep and crooked breath her eyes shone like burning embers.

“Forget you ever saw me and we can all live.” She replied. She tore the arrow out of her flesh. She felt the sting of blood magic spread from the puncture wound. The Templars drew their blades, she knew she’d have to act fast if she was to make it. She surrounded them all with a wall of fire. She heard them scream as her vision flooded with smoke and the smell of charred flesh. The young maleficar had become quite adept at her craft while on the run.

Almost as soon as she’d summoned it the fire began to dwindle and she fell to the ground. Of course the Templars would use a mana drain on her. However they had not taken into account fire’s own brand of agency, she was no longer in control of the flames but they were most certainly still there and they were freely burning. A Templar dashed through the flames blade high in the air to try and get to the mage before she could escape. The fire was faster than him and burst into a flaming fury from all the fallen leaves littering the forest floor.  Analia felt the flames creeping closer to her, she knew she would only survive if she was able to regain control of the fire.

She pulled out her staff the blade at the bottom wasn’t as sharp as it once was but it would be good enough. Analia stabbed herself in the stomach with the staff blade, as she bled she bent the fire to her will creating a pillar of fire around her. As she encased herself in fire Analia realized this may have been an overly ambitious move. She was fourteen and the fire was out of her control. The smoke filled her lungs and the fire bit at her skin. The world went black when she was fourteen.

She woke up covered in charred skin and she couldn’t feel anything.

“Oh maker what happened?” A voice teeming with concern asked.

Analia tried to make a sound but her ash coated throat made only a pained sound. She tried to open her eyes, there was residual fire on some of the burned out husks of bushes but not much else. She saw only a pair of black boots approach her,

“You’re still alive…” He sounded so shocked to think that anyone in the midst of this destruction could still live. Her skin felt like a patchwork of cinder and sinew. The stranger put the spout of a canteen to her lips,

“I know it hurts but you need to drink.” He said.

The water felt unnatural on her dried lips and scorched throat but she drank it gladly. She was still barely sure she was even alive.

“I’m going to do what I can to help you okay? Do you remember what happened?” The comforting voice asked.

Analia opened her eyes again, unaware she’d even closed them. A young man with blonde hair knelt over her, she could’ve sworn she’d seen his face before.

“Temp, temps did this t’me.” Analia attempted.

The blonde stranger blanched glancing at the bodies all around them,

“They tried to burn you to death?” He asked.

“Tried to save m’self. Didn’t do a good job.” She said.

The stranger attempted to get her to sit upright, she yelled at the pain.

“Okay, moving you is bad. Good to know, she’ll be okay I’ve done this a million times.” The stranger tried to assure himself.

She felt his hand on the side of her face although she never remembered her skin being so tender and raw. She felt the familiar heat of healing magic. She focused on her breathing as the healing magic flowed through her body dulling her pain and her burns. She was fourteen when she survived a trial by fire. She was fourteen when she was covered in burns. Her mysterious healer took his hands off her a moment to catch his breath,

“I need more mana, but this might be all I can do. I’m sorry.” He said.

Analia sat up with some difficulty. Her skin was no longer tearing when she moved but it would still never be the same. She looked down at herself, her robe was singed beyond belief and she saw where the fire had consumed a quarter of her body. She frowned at the burns, she wouldn’t be able to outrun Templars with burns like these on her legs.

“I’m” She coughed, “not safe like this.” She looked at the blonde mage who looked torn between helplessness and pure pity for the girl.

“No one will know who you are, no one will recognize you.” He said as he seemed to realize something. He took off his cloak beneath it he had a plain tunic and pants, he wrapped it around Analia and drew her hood up.

“Where’s your staff?” He asked her.

Analia looked with her eyes alone, the burn on her neck made it hard to turn her head. She saw the metal staff she’d stolen lying in a pile of burned leaves. The mage handed it to the girl,

“Can you stand?” He asked.

The fear in Analia’s eyes must’ve said it all as the mage lifted her, he was certainly stronger than he looked. She held the staff tightly. When the mage put her down he gave her a once over,

“You look like a beggar woman, no one will suspect you’re a mage!” He smiled.

Analia tried to take a step but it was excruciating.

“It hurts.” She said.

“Then I will stay with you until you can walk.” The mage declared.

                He was true to his word. For several days he remained with the girl, treating her wounds as best he could and making potions for when they would part. He wrote down how exactly to prepare them as well. During all this time they did not exchange names although they did find out they were from the same circle.

                “You must’ve been very skilled to elude them so long.” The mage said.

                “The blight helped.” Analia said cracking a smile.

                “You’ve been on the run for a year that’s, impressive.” The mage said with newfound admiration for the young survivor.

                Analia shrugged her shoulders, “I’ve got Templars and an angry warden on my tail though.”

                “The Templars will give up eventually, they’ll assume you died if they haven’t already.”

                She leaned on the other mage, “I hope you’re right.”

The mage placed a few potions at Analia’s feet before standing up.

“This is all I can do for you, if you have family I heavily suggest finding them.” He said as he began to walk away from her.

“Wait!” She called.

“What?” He looked over his shoulder.

“Thank you.” Analia said.

The mage smiled before he walked away from her for the last time. She was fourteen when she began to wander Ferelden. She was fourteen when she realized she wasn’t born, she was forged like a weapon for war. In the blood and fire that was meant to be her funeral pyre she found herself awoken for the first time. She was fourteen when she survived something even the blessed Andraste could not. She was fourteen and she was reborn from her own ashes.

**Author's Note:**

> Analia Trevelyan is one of my inquisitors and this is a major part of her backstory, any and all feedback is welcome! I love comments because otherwise i have no idea if anyone actually likes or reads what i post! My tumblr is alinnsurana feel free to hit me up to scream about dragon age. I know anders isn't mentioned by name in this fic but that is without a doubt who rescues analia.


End file.
